


Make Sure

by unsettled



Series: Deep End [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home
Genre: Bondage, Erotic Electrostimulation, Forced Orgasm, Inappropriate Use of Iron Man Armor, Kinktober, M/M, Prostate Milking, Slight consent issues, quentin did not quuuuuuite understand what he was getting into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, fucking the boss. Or being fucked by the boss, rather.But Tony haswants,and ways of making those wants a reality.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Tony Stark
Series: Deep End [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982066
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51
Collections: Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Make Sure

When Tony offered to show him a good time—had asked if he was any good at doing other things with that smartass mouth—Quentin had gone for it. How much trouble could he really get in, he’d thought.

Like a  _ fool. _

He hadn't expected Tony to be so strong, Quentin thinks, sagging in his hold. Tony designs things, runs things, spends money; sure, he's Iron Man, but that's the suit, isn't it?

Isn't, really isn't, Quentin's finding out, Tony's arm flexing around his, forcing his arms back further, arching his back even more. Holding him there, easily, Quentin's arms bound together behind him, elbows pressing into Tony's chest as Tony leans in and kisses the top of his shoulder. "Come on, handsome," Tony murmurs. "Give me another," curling his fingers deep inside Quentin; Quentin shudders, his head falling back, and groans as Tony drags another orgasm out of him. It hurts, even if Tony isn't touching his cock, showing him a little mercy there after he'd nearly screamed when Tony started to stroke him for the third time. It hurts, even though Tony's being gentle with him now, is rubbing at that spot slowly, so much softer than the last time. Times, god.  _ Fuck. _

"There you go," Tony says, and it's the same fucking tone he uses when he's impressed with Quentin's newest additon to the enhanced VR project. "I'd never have pegged you as like this," he says against Quentin's neck. "Wouldn't have thought you'd be so sweet in the end, all subby and good at following orders," his fingers starting to move inside Quentin again. Quentin whines, this embarrassing noise he wants to take back, and he's not like that, not really. Not normally.

"I can't," he says when Tony twists his fingers more, wiggles them. "I can't, Tony, I can't."

"Sure you can," Tony says, and Quentin shakes his head, frantic. He hadn't even gotten hard the last two times, not even a little. "Don't worry about it," Tony adds, nipping his ear. "I'll take care of it for you," and Quentin doesn't like the sound of that at all. What is that even supposed to  _ mean? _

Tony pulls his fingers out and steers him toward the bed, patient and careful with him as Quentin struggles to get himself situated at all, off balance with his arms tied like this and clumsy, his legs shaky. He kneels, finally, and turns to Tony, worried.

"See?" Tony says, smirking. "Look at how easily it comes to you. Bet you'd love it down by my feet, wouldn't you, sweetheart?"

He hasn't even thought of anything like that, and he tries not to now either, tries to ignore the way he feels hot all over. Tony doesn't make him answer, this time, just crawls up behind him. Puts a hand on his shoulder and shoves, Quentin lurching forward and falling and he can't catch himself like this— 

Tony's got him, hand hooked into the rope around Quentin's elbows, only letting him fall a bit before he catches Quentin, lowers him the rest of the way onto the bed. Gives him a chance to settle, turning his head enough to breathe, before he grabs Quentin's thighs and pulls him back over Tony's lap, spread out and open, exposed.

There's a weird noise then, a metallic clicking noise; Quentin cranes his head as far back as he can. Tony notices and grins, raising his hand, and that's— that's a fucking piece of armor, a bright red and gold gauntlet that shouldn't be anywhere near him like this. Is Tony really going to— 

Yeah, Quentin realizes a moment later, his breath rushing out of him in a shocked gasp, he really is going to. Quentin squirms, the metal fingers cold against his skin, inside him, and they're bigger, more unforgiving than Tony's hand. They hurt when they press up against his prostate, and the thought of Tony toying with him like that, trying to make him come again, like that, makes Quentin shiver and twist on Tony's lap, almost thinking of trying to get away.

"Wait," he says, "wait, Tony—"

And then the rest of his words are lost as something— something happens, Tony does something Quentin can't understand, does something that has Quentin grinding down into Tony's lap and coming all over his thighs, hard and instant and uncontrollable. Keeps spasming, come pulsing out of him as he jerks, his cock still soft and nestled in Tony's lap.

It's never going to stop, he thinks, frantic, shaking, and then it does, finally, it does. He pants, every breath making his body shift, rub slightly against Tony and he's so sensitive it's nearly agony. "What—" he gasps, "what the  _ fuck—" _

"I told you," Tony says, smug as hell, the bastard. "You don't have to worry about it, handsome. Don't have to do a thing. I'll make sure you can come as many times as I want. The wonders of electricity," and he laughs, fuck.

"Can't," Quentin says, begs, even if Tony's proven he can. _ "Please." _

"Can," Tony tells him, cheerful, and then Quentin's coming just as hard as before, humping Tony's lap and screaming into the sheets.

"Tony," Quentin says, "Tony,  _ Tony—" _ pleads, begs, helplessly, his words dissolving more and more each time Tony makes him come; they're nothing more than broken vowel sounds by the time he's coming dry, barely able to move beyond the way each pulse makes him twitch, convulse loosely, like his bones are only barely strung together. He's panting against the bed, face pressed into sheets that are wet with his drool, his tears. "Tony," he manages to breathe out, just once more.

Tony hums, and the next orgasm doesn't come as Quentin expected; Tony's gauntleted hand slips out of him and Quentin moans. He feels open and empty and inhuman; can't stand the thought of how he knows Tony has to be looking at his ass.

"Fuck," Tony says, and it's raw this time, nothing joking about it at all. "Look at that. Christ, I can't believe I've been letting this go to waste, that I didn't even know I missing out on you." He rubs his hand over the swell of Quentin's ass, and Quentin feels a little flutter of hope in his chest, that maybe Tony is done, maybe he won't have to come again.

Tony sighs and shoves Quentin forward, off his lap, and it hurts so much for his cock to slide against the fabric of Tony's slacks, hurts for it to settle onto the bed. He whimpers, pushing his ass up as much as he can, trying to escape that feeling.

Hears the sound of fabric rustling, of a zipper, and he freezes.

"Looks like you're finally ready to be fucked," Tony says. "Bets on if you'll come on my cock, or if I'll have to give you a reach around with this?" settling the gauntlet on Quentin's hip.

"No," Quentin says, shaking his head as much as he can manage, "no, no, Tony—"

Tony leans in, thighs pushing Quentin's legs apart, the head of his cock bumping up against Quentin's ass. "If you manage it just once without my hand," he whispers, ducking his head and rubbing his beard over Quentin's shoulder, "I'll fund every last thing you ask for."

"No," Quentin moans, because he _ can't. _

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Tony says. "I'll make sure you can."


End file.
